Names in Burundi are not given lightly. Names are given to tell a story, to reflect the parents' hopes and influence the path the child will face in his or her life. In Kirundi, Diane Nukuri-Johnson's native language, the name "Nukuri" means "the truth," and it carries the weight of, "I swear to tell the truth."

Nukuri-Johnson has lived up to her name. Even before she left her country at age 16, sneaking away from the 2001 Francophone Games in Ottawa, Canada, with no money and no passport, she was determined to carve out her own path in life, to tell her own truth.

In the rural villages of Burundi, many women are married by age 18. A life of bearing children and backbreaking toil usually follows. Nukuri-Johnson was having none of that truth. She knew what she wanted then--to continue her education and her running--and she knows what she wants now: to enjoy the hard-won respect and acceptance she has gained from family and country and to keep exploring her potential.

Her journey is an improbable one, filled with tragedy, serendipity and a single-minded sense of purpose that has shaped her into the promising runner she is today. At age 27, training 105 to 120 miles per week, she owns Burundi national records in the 5K, 10K, half marathon and marathon. She earned a spot in the 2012 Olympic marathon by running a 2:33:47 best at the 2011 Honda LA Marathon, where she placed fourth. In London, Nukuri lowered her personal best--and the national record--to 2:30:13, finishing 31st, after carrying the Burundi flag in the opening ceremonies. "The general reaction by everybody is that she has made enormous strides in the past few years . . . and shows no sign of a plateau yet," says her agent, Brendan Reilly.

Diane Nukuri was born on Dec. 1, 1984, in Kigozi, a small village southeast of Bujumbura, the capital city of Burundi. When you think of African athletic prowess, Burundi is not a country that comes to mind. One of the poorest countries in the world, Burundi has barely emerged from a 15-year civil war that claimed between 200,000 and 300,000 mostly civilian lives and left more than half a million people (9 percent of the total population) displaced. Like its neighbor Rwanda, the people are majority Hutu--85 percent in Burundi--with a Tutsi minority. Like Rwanda, there have been ethnic tensions between the two groups since the Belgians colonized the region at the end of World War I. Unlike Rwanda, where Hutus controlled the government from independence in 1962 until the 1994 genocide, the Tutsi minority retained power in Burundi until July 1993, when Melchior Ndadaye, a moderate Hutu, became president in the country's first democratic elections. Just three months later he was assassinated, plunging the country into political instability, waves of reprisal killings and a bloody civil war that continued until a peace treaty with the last group of rebels was signed in 2008.

Before the civil war began in 1993, Nukuri lived a quiet life. One of her fondest memories was stealing off with her brothers and friends to eat roasted corn until she had stuffed herself. Fifth in a family of eight, Nukuri has three younger sisters, two older sisters, and two older brothers. She was especially close to her mother and her brother Innocent. As a child, she went to school, worked the family garden (the source of all their fresh food), tended their five cows, did housework, and helped care for her younger sisters. Much of the burden fell to her because her brothers and older sisters were away at boarding school. Her one-room school was some distance from home, and the only way to get there was to run. And so, in the familiar African story, she ran: to school and everywhere else.

Being a female athlete in Burundi, says Nukuri, was difficult when she was growing up, and it is still difficult today. Although her mother encouraged education for her daughters, she discouraged athletics. Nukuri remembers that after her sister returned from competing in an 800m race, their mother made her stay outside for 30 minutes because she had disobeyed the rules and returned after 6 p.m. "I was so mad, and I felt so bad for my sister, because she loved it so much," Nukuri says. She did not want that to happen to her. Between the ages of 10 and 12, before running provided a means of escape, she was so desperate to get away somewhere she put toothpaste in her eyes, because if she couldn't see, she knew her mother would take her to the doctor in Bujumbura. "It sounds stupid," she says, "but that's how desperate I was."
Nukuri was 9 when Ndadaye was assassinated in October of 1993. The assassination was carried out as part of a coup by radical members of the Tutsi-dominated military. Anti-Tutsi reprisals were immediate, widespread and horrific. Tall, slender of build and feature, Nukuri was easily distinguished as a Tutsi. Her village was majority Tutsi, so for her, this was a terrifying time. Gangs of rebels were attacking villages, raping, looting and killing. Although Nukuri was lucky--her village was never attacked--they were never certain of their safety.

"I was very young and I didn't really understand much," she recalls. "I just remember we used to always pack a small bag of clothes in case we had to leave home." When the family heard shooting or screaming during the night, the women and children would hide in the cover of a tea plantation, leaving the men to stand guard outside their homes. The most difficult part of hiding was trying to keep the young children quiet. Nukuri had a 3-year-old sister, and it fell to 9-year-old Nukuri to keep her from giving away their location with her loud sobs.

The war claimed the life of Nukuri's father in 1993. A soldier, he was only home once or twice a month. In the last year of his life, when he did come home, she could not sit with him in the living room, because such behavior was considered improper for a young girl. "That's part of our culture and how we were raised," Nukuri says. Not getting to spend more time with him remains one of her great regrets.

Life got harder after her father's death, and more of the household burden fell on her shoulders. Her mother was not well and needed help to cope with the responsibilities of the large family. Nukuri began thinking of ways she could escape. It did not take long for her to find an answer in running.

While at primary school in the neighboring village of Ijenda, Nukuri began running seriously. Her gym teacher told the class that if they practiced three times a week for the next four weeks, he would choose students to represent the school at a track meet in the province of Ruyigi. It meant a week away from home, and Nukuri knew she had to claim a spot. She was 13 years old. "I got so excited because at that time I had never been anywhere far from home," she says. It was also a chance to eat something other than ugali, the corn flour staple of the East African diet. Nukuri trained hard; she made the team and went to Ijenda, where she competed in her first race, a 3K.

With so much time being spent on household chores, Nukuri's academic standing suffered, as she had little time for studying. By the time she was 15, her sister, four years her junior, was only a grade behind her, and friends began telling Nukuri's mother that Nukuri should drop out of school. They also pressured her to put an end to her daughter's running aspirations.

To attend practice, Nukuri had to lie, saying she was going to visit her grandmother. Her brother Innocent, who has always been her strongest ally at home, would cover for her, but eventually she was caught. She got spanked, but that seemed of little consequence if she got to do what she wanted. "I think that's where my drive came from," she says. "I wanted to do well, because I felt like everybody was against me." Her determination paid off. Under the tutelage of her coach, Jean Pierre Sinzinkayo, she blossomed; at age 15, she was the fastest female runner in Burundi and had earned a spot on the Burundi Olympic team in the 5K.

At the time, she was racing everything from the 1500m to the 10K. Although she "trained" three to four times per week, much of her life--fetching water and doing other chores, running to and from school--was also race preparation. "I feel like a lot of African kids, especially the ones who grew up in the village, train every day because we do so much work," she says.

The 2000 Olympics were a giant step along Nukuri's running path. "It was overwhelming," she says, speaking of the hustle and bustle, the babel of languages, and the unfamiliar surroundings in Sydney, Australia. "I was very shy and I was not willing to try different food and stuff." She placed 14th in the 5,000m preliminary heat in 16:38.30, shaving 24 seconds from her PR.

She also met fellow Burundian Venuste Niyongabo, 1996 gold medalist in the 5,000m. Venuste was a hero in Burundi.

During his gold-medal race, the civil war stopped so that soldiers on both sides could follow on the radio. Nukuri had no female athletes to serve as role models, so Venuste's support and encouragement were life-changing for her. It's a friendship that endures to this day.
In 2001, the civil war was still raging in Burundi. Nukuri, back from the Olympics, was riding a minibus home from a track meet in Bujumbura. It was not safe to travel, but people had no choice. A soldier, traveling home on the bus, stood by the window. Suddenly there were gunshots. The soldier was hit in the head and died instantly. "I remember there was blood all on the floor," Nukuri recalls, "and I was shaking the whole time." That was the moment, she says, that she realized she had to get out of Burundi. The image of the soldier is still vivid for her today, and when she goes to visit her mother, traveling that same stretch of road makes the fear come roaring back. "That tragedy was my wake-up call," she says. "From that moment, I did everything I could to leave the country, and nothing was going to stop me."

Her chance came with the 2001 Francophone Games in Ottawa. Before she left for the games, she told her family she would not return to Burundi. They gave her the name and telephone number of a cousin, Betty, who lived in Canada and might be able to help. Nukuri was 16. She knew no English, and her French was limited to what she had learned in high school. After her race, she telephoned Betty and asked if she would take her in. Betty was hesitant, but she drove to Ottawa with her husband, Louis, and their 6-month-old son, Shimo, to pick up Nukuri and bring her to their house in Pickering, a city about 26 miles outside Toronto.

Nukuri missed her country and family to the point of distraction. "Nobody could understand what I was going through," she says. "It was a rough time of my life, and I felt alone." Because of the war, she always worried for her family's safety, and this made it difficult to concentrate on anything else. "When you live in a country where people are killing each other, you always hope it is not your turn," she says. Communication was problematic, and although she managed to periodically speak to Innocent, who had a cell phone, she would sometimes go a year without speaking to her mother.

Betty did her best to help, and Nukuri made it through. She attended a French-speaking high school and joined the Toronto Running Club, coached by Ross Ristuccia, with whom she still keeps in touch. She began to post impressive times in local events, and by the time she was ready to attend college, American recruiters were taking notice. Offers came in from all over the U.S.

The University of Iowa cross country coach, Layne Anderson, made the effort to visit Nukuri in Pickering and spend the weekend so that they could get to know each other. "My cousin and her husband liked him right away, and I had a good feeling about him," Nukuri recalls. Because of the relationship they developed over that weekend, "I knew I could trust him," she says.

Anderson recalls the visit clearly. Nukuri was quiet and shy, he says. As her English was poor, his French worse, her uncle Louis "helped bridge the gap" between them. By the time Anderson left, Nukuri, in her typical single-minded way, had made up her mind to train with him, and nothing would change it.

Anderson remains her coach today. He had recruited African athletes before, and although Burundi was not a well-established source of distance runners, like Ethiopia or Kenya, he was impressed enough by Nukuri's times to make the trip and convinced by her determination and spirit to make the offer. "It's maybe a long shot, but it's a no-shot if you don't pursue it," he recalls thinking of his decision.

Because Nukuri was behind academically, she spent her first two years at Butler Community College in Kansas, training under head coach Kirk Hunter. "He did everything for me," she says. She dug in her heels, learning English, fighting her way to passing grades, and winning cross country titles.

In 2006, she transferred to Iowa and became a Hawkeye, majoring in communications. Here, Coach Anderson's long shot paid off. Honors rolled in: 2007 cross country athlete of the year, 2007 Big Ten cross country champion and 2008 Big Ten 5,000m champion--only the second Hawkeye in school history to win a Big Ten title--a fourth-place finish at the 2007 NCAA Cross Country Championships, three time all-American and school records that still stand in multiple events.

In 2007, Nukuri met Alexander Johnson, a school reporter for the Hawkeye men's track team. Alexander recalls "friending" her on Facebook so he could wish her good luck in races, because he thought she was "hot" and hoped to be able to talk to her. His strategy worked when they both ended up at a bar with other people and she was looking around hoping to be "rescued" from a dance with another guy. She recognized Johnson and called him over with a big smile--to his amazement. He used the opportunity to get to know her, and he invited her to a movie, which was a date to him, not to her, he says. But romance blossomed.

A year and a half later he proposed, and they married in 2009 in his hometown of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Innocent and Nukuri's Canadian family--Betty, Louis, and their two boys, Shimo and Manzi--came to the wedding.

Nukuri-Johnson continues to pick up milestones and put them in her pocket. She graduated from the University of Iowa in 2008 and has turned her attention to professional racing with typical laser focus, tearing up the roads across the country during the summer of 2012, including second at Bay to Breakers in May and fourth at the New York Mini 10K in June. "Last summer was a breakout for her," Anderson says. "When she is on her game, she can do extraordinary things."

While she races multiple distances, her focus is the distance she ran in London, the marathon. "I decided to concentrate on the marathon because I love the distance," she says. "I love the challenge and I feel like my life has been like a marathon."
Along the way, Nukuri-Johnson outgrew her shyness. Her Facebook profile photo shows her in a long blue wig with cat ears that she picked up in San Francisco during the Bay to Breakers weekend. And she enjoyed modeling for this feature so much she joked that she's considering whether it should take precedence over her running.

Among her competitors, Nukuri-Johnson is known for her relaxed, fun-loving attitude. Fellow marathoner and Boulder Wave athlete Adriana Nelson says, "If you don't have a good race, you want to be surrounded by athletes like Diane. She has an extremely positive attitude even when things don't go well. She always wants to cheer you up--and she does it very well. After a race last summer where I ran poorly, Diane knew how disappointed I was and said to me, 'Tonight, you won't sleep too early--we're going out. Let's dance and have some drinks.' We had a great dance night, made jokes and laughed a lot, and it definitely made me forget about the bad race."

Kenyan-born U.S. Olympian Janet Cherobon-Bawcom, who first raced Nukuri-Johnson when she was at Butler Community College and Cherobon-Bawcom was at Harding, concurs. "I think what stands out with Diane is how much she enjoys what she's doing, and how well she gets along with all types of people," she says. "For me--and lots of other athletes--having Diane at the races makes this whole endeavor more fun, which means I'll probably keep it up longer!"

More than anything, Nukuri-Johnson is known for her caring and supportive nature. "Diane is a great person with a huge heart," Nelson says. "It is hard not to love this girl."

In 2009, a few months after her wedding, Nukuri-Johnson went back to Burundi for the first time since leaving in 2001. The visit did not go smoothly. First, she was stranded at the airport in Germany because no one had informed her that she needed a transit visa. "I cried for two days because they told me they were printing a boarding pass for me to go back to Iowa," she said. "I was so excited to go home. You can imagine, after eight years, not seeing my family. It was the hardest thing."

She had no way to get in touch with Innocent, who had planned "a small party--meaning 100-plus people," to greet her at the airport. When she finally arrived, two days late, she managed to contact Innocent, who was still waiting with their mother in Bujumbura, worried that something terrible had happened.

"My mom was telling my brother they lied to her, I am not alive," Nukuri-Johnson says. "She said I must have had an accident and nobody wanted to tell her." When finally reunited with her mother, Nukuri-Johnson recalls, "She couldn't believe I was alive. She started telling me how whenever we talked on the phone, she always thought my brother or my cousin found a Burundian woman in Canada and the USA to pretend like it was me."

It had been so long since Nukuri-Johnson had seen her family that she felt as if she were talking to strangers. Her younger sister, who was 7 when Nukuri-Johnson left, was now a teenager. Then, just as she was beginning to repair the ripped fabric of family, it was time to leave, tearing the bond anew.

She hasn't let the separation happen again. Nukuri-Johnson returned to Burundi in 2011 (accompanied by her husband this time), and made plans to go again after the Olympic Games this year. Her family understands what she does and respects her wishes. Her mother, once too afraid of disapproval from family and neighbors to let her daughter run, is now proud. "That is more important to me than racing or my career," Nukuri-Johnson says.

Nukuri-Johnson has also gained the respect of her country. She has become what she lacked during her formative years: a female role model. "There are so many talented women in Burundi. I want to help them by my example," she says.

For Nukuri-Johnson, her role-model status includes helping to build a country free of ethnic strife. "When it comes to running, that never crosses my mind to think of [my countrymen] as Hutu or Tutsi. I know a lot of people who lost everything. So for me I just wanted a better life and one day I would live to help all the kids in Burundi," she says.

That's the future. For now, she's content, living and training in Iowa. She's free to be the woman she wants to be, with a husband who adores and admires her. "When I think of how far she's come, what she's accomplished and the choices she's made," Alex says, "I can't say I understand all of it. It's mind-blowing. She's a remarkable person. Most impressive is her humility. She doesn't see it as greatness. She doesn't look at it as anything but what she's supposed to do."

She has an agent and coach who support her and feel "like family." Her running inspires and sustains her.

"Waking up every morning and going for a run makes me happy," Nukuri-Johnson says. "I don't take anything for granted." All her life, she has fought hard to define herself as a woman, a runner, and a Burundian. She has succeeded. "There is never a time when I feel like stopping," Nukuri-Johnson says. To that, she could add, "I swear that's the truth."

After recovering from a stress fracture in her toe, suffered midrace in the 2011 New York City Marathon, Nukuri-Johnson started back running in January and built quickly to 80 miles per week by mid-February. Over the spring, she gradually increased to a peak of 120 miles per week in late June. "We have enjoyed a nice smooth [buildup in volume and intensity," says coach Layne Anderson, "and feel that Diane is as well-prepared as she could be at this stage in her career."

This high volume is the biggest difference in training over the past two successful years racing on the roads. "Diane ran at 70 miles per week in college and | has gradually increased that amount over the duration of her career as a professional runner," Anderson explains, noting that 120 miles per week is her all-time | high and includes a long run of 2 hours and 30 minutes.

Nukuri-Johnson's training cycle has followed this basic pattern throughout her career.

Morning runs of 40 minutes--5 days/week

One long run on Mondays--up to a maximum of 2:30

Two quality training sessions on Wednesday and Saturday--currently marathon specific work, typically 10 miles of total volume with 4 miles total warming up and cooling down

Nukuri-Johnson has never been a "super speedy person" according to Anderson, and her speed work even in college was geared to longer stuff. At shorter distances, she has run a respectable-but-not-stellar 4:20 1500m and her 5,000m PR is 15:41. But the increased volume, as well as dedication to strength work, has taken her to a new level, says Anderson.

"A workout that really opened my eyes to her breakout prior to the LA Marathon in 2011 was a 2 x 3 mile | with 4-minute recovery that she ran in 15:24 and 15:04," says Anderson, noting that her 5,000m PR was 15:59 at the time. "I almost fell out of the van! That really gave us both the confidence to push her volume and quality up to more appropriate levels."

Nukuri-Johnson used some races as training sessions throughout the spring and summer. "We did | not back down at any point in the training for a race," Anderson reports. "So the results were very encouraging because some came during 110-to 120-mile weeks and one with a long run two days before."

With some history of lower back and hamstring tightness, Nukuri-Johnson relies on her massage therapist | and physical therapist to keep her body fine-tuned. Despite the new highs in volume, the end result leading into London was little to no training time missed to even nagging pains. With her husband on an internship in Chicago, she dedicated herself fully to preparation. "She eats, sleeps, runs," says Anderson. And she loves it.

"We certainly feel that based upon her progress the past few years and her youth, she has more room to improve in the years ahead," says Anderson. "She is really gaining confidence in her ability to compete at this level and has shown an ability to handle a large amount of work.